


certain obscure things

by Hibou_Gris



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Episode: s01e10 Points, M/M, Pre-Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:20:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibou_Gris/pseuds/Hibou_Gris
Summary: Dick tells Nix about his request for a transfer to the Pacific. Set during Points.





	certain obscure things

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters from the Band of Brothers mini-series. No disrespect meant to the real veterans that the series is based on.
> 
> I didn't feel the need to apply an archive warning, but there is a very brief mention of the horrors of the concentration camp at Landsberg.
> 
> The title of the story is from this translation of the poem by Pablo Neruda, "One Hundred Love Sonnets: XVII". https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/49236

Dick waits until after dinner to tell Nix, waits until they’re alone, sitting on a grassy incline a little ways above the hotel and looking down at the water, the warm glow of the setting sun painting everything in gold. Nix lights up a cigarette; Dick leans back on his hands and pretends not to watch him.

Dick likes Austria but he can’t trust it – its tranquility, its beauty, warm spring sunshine bright on his face. Its sense of safety – that most of all. Something in him remains coiled tight and wary against it. The shadow of the carnage they’ve left behind hangs waiting behind every breathtaking mountain peak, every untouched village.

The war isn’t over. Germany has surrendered, but the war goes on. He had stood next to Nix and watched the footage of Okinawa, and felt the grim knowledge of it. Austria, and their time here, is a reprieve, nothing more. 

Dick feels it like an itch under his skin, the waiting, the restlessness. He can see it in the faces of some of the men too. He tries to drum it out with routine, training and then more training, early morning swims and late night paperwork. He falls into a dead exhausted sleep most nights (but some nights he still dreams of shooting the boy at the crossroads and wakes up covered in sweat).

As far as Dick can tell, Nix is the exception that proves the rule when it comes to this sense of malaise. He’s still much too somber, and he still drinks too much, but the dark bitterness that had clung to him seems to have seeped away. (The night after Landsberg, Nix had sat on Dick’s bed and watched him fill out reports, and drank and drank and drank. Nix ended up on the floor, throwing up in a waste basket that Dick had hastily pulled out from under the desk. Dick sat next to him, and when Nix was done heaving he put his head on Dick’s shoulder and they had stayed like that, breathing in time, not talking about bodies stacked in train-cars or the smell of burning flesh.)

Nix is doing better, but Dick doesn’t know how he’s going to react to Dick’s decision. Dick hopes – well. He knows what he hopes, in his heart of hearts, but he can’t quite acknowledge it. He should want Nix to go home, to be safe. That’s what a good friend would want. 

Dick drags his eyes away from Nix’s profile (the way his lips wrap around the cigarette). He says, “The 13th are being sent to the Pacific right away.”

Nix says, “I heard. Poor bastards.” 

Dick takes a deep breath, keeps his gaze straight ahead, and says, “I’ve applied for a transfer. To go with them.”

Nix goes still next to him. Dick braces himself, but Nix says nothing, and the silence stretches out painfully.

Dick risks a glance at him. Nix is staring down at the cigarette in his hand, face blank. The breeze picks up, ruffling Nix’s hair and sending the grass around them into a wild dance. The sun is lower now, the heat of the day bleeding away with it, and Dick shivers. 

Nix looks over at him finally, his brow creasing. “We should head back down soon.”

“Nix –” Dick says, and then stops. He didn’t mean for his voice to sound pleading. He starts again, more firmly, “I can’t sit around here waiting to see what happens. If I’m going, it might as well be now.” 

Nix shakes his head, takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “What about Easy?” he asks. He doesn’t sound angry, but Dick still feels it like a slap. 

“Easy isn’t mine anymore,” Dick says sharply.

Nix snorts and shakes his head again. Dick waits for the next question, the one he can feel hanging in the air, _what about me?_ His throat has gone tight; he has no idea how he’ll answer.

But Nix doesn’t ask it. Instead, he stubs out his cigarette on a patch of dirt and leans back into the grass until he’s flat on his back, staring up at the sky.

Nix says, “ _Goddamnit_ , Dick,” and now the anger is there, loud and clear. 

Dick looks down at him, all the familiar lines of Nix’s face and body, stubbly cheeks and wrinkled uniform, the cigarette stub in his hand and the flask undoubtedly hidden somewhere on his person. He can’t apologize, won’t apologize for this decision, but part of him wants to. To let Nix know that he is sorry that he can’t be anything other than what he is.

“I have to, Nix,” Dick says, and swallows back the rest.

Nix sighs, covers his face with one hand. “You’ve made up your mind.” It’s not a question.

“Yes,” Dick says. (That night in Bastogne when Harry had been wounded, after the barrage had stopped and the dead and injured seen to, Dick had gone back to his foxhole and sat staring at nothing, picking at the dried bits of Harry’s blood still caught under his nails. Nix had climbed in next to him and put his arm around Dick’s shoulders. Dick tried to shrug him off, but Nix just tugged him closer and said, “Goddamn Harry and his stupid fucking fire.” Dick choked out a laugh, and Nix went on to curse out the generals, the Germans, Bastogne, the forest, the snow, and the foxhole that they were sitting in. Dick had pressed his face against Nix’s chest, shaking with laughter, and in that moment loved him more than anyone else in his entire life.)

The sun sinks lower, disappearing behind the peaks in the distance. Nix is silent. 

Dick pushes himself to his feet. It’s getting colder, they should go. There’s nothing more to say. He reaches his hand down to Nix, to help him up. “Come on, let’s go,” Dick says.

Nix looks up at him for a long moment, and then takes his hand. Dick pulls him up, and they stand facing each other. Dick drops Nix’s hand and starts to turn away.

“Okay,” Nix says, “okay, fine.”

Dick stops, looks back at him. The light is going fast now, and he can’t read Nix’s expression.

Nix rolls his eyes and says, “So – fine, we’re going to the Pacific. I’ll have to scrounge some sunglasses for you.”

Dick has to look at the ground and breathe, just for a moment. “You don’t have to –“

Nix grabs Dick’s arm and gives him a small shake. His grip is warm and sure; there’s an answering warmth flooding through Dick’s chest. “Sure I do. Now come on. Lead the way.”

* * *


End file.
